Traumatic Bonds
by Southpaw Swordsman
Summary: Certainly, love can bloom on the battlefield. It can bloom anywhere. That doesn't mean it should, or that it's healthy. Stockholm Syndrome story. Not a romance.


**Author's Note:**

 **Yes, MGS. (Don't worry, the few of you who came for Mother 3. I'm not done with that yet.)**

 **I started playing MGS 1, the original, the first, not too long ago. Took me long enough, am I right?**

 **And... actually, after meeting Otacon and Sniper Wolf, I wanted to write a something about Stockholm Syndrome. Apologies if I don't keep perfectly to character, I've only seen most of the very first Metal Gear Solid game. I just felt that... since we only heard of the relationship through Otacon talking about it, we miss a lot of what probably went into it.**

* * *

Ten forty-five.

This was the time he normally would head out…

Hal Emmerich looked over his shoulder in what he hoped was an inconspicuous manner. As expected, the guard was still standing right at the doorway, holding his large machine gun tight against his chest. The man's cold eyes snapped to Hal's.

Hal jumped in spite of himself, and hurriedly turned his attention to what was in front of him. His computer. His blueprints. The little machine prototypes he had been working on.

He picked up a screwdriver and glanced at his watch.

Ten forty-six.

He looked over at the guard again. Maybe… maybe he could reason with him. Surely they would be able to let him out for a little bit. He'd be right back in his office in a few minutes or so! He just.

He spun around completely in his chair and lifted a finger in the air. The guard was looking down the hall, completely oblivious to the motion.

"Uh," Hal managed to vocalize.

The guard turned his head and glared at him, "Yes?" he asked, his voice husky and dark.

Hal lost the resolve he had and immediately turned away again, "Never mind."

He flexed his fingers lightly and picked up one of his little machines. He idly tried to tighten its screws, though it needed no such thing. His mouth pressed into a thin line, and he started compulsively tightening the screws on every little machine he had scattered on his desk.

He glanced at his watch again.

Ten fifty.

This was ridiculous.

Hal swallowed and stood up, balling his hands into fists and clenching his jaw in a way to strengthen his resolve. He took a step toward the guard. Then another. The guard glanced at him, then away.

Hal raised his hand and opened his mouth, gasping in a breath…

Then he turned around and walked back to his desk.

No. No, he was going to do this.

He turned around again and walked up to the guard, though he kept what he hoped was a respectable distance from him.

"Sir," Hal said, trying to keep his voice from squeaking but ultimately failing. The man regarded him with silent, cold annoyance.

Hal swallowed, "Sir, could I please leave for a little bit? I have to—"

"Leave? I don't think you understand just what you are, runt. You're a hostage. You don't get to just walk out whenever you feel like it," the man growled, his hands tensing on his weapon.

Even if he didn't have a gun, Hal still would have taken a few steps back. This man easily had at least a hundred pounds on him, and it was all solid muscle.

"But it's… it's almost eleven," Hal tried.

"So?"

"So… I have to do something important."

"Uh huh. Like call for help, right? Nice try, but I'm a little smarter than what your kind gives me credit for."

"What? No, that's not what I meant! I just have to..." Hal paused and looked down, shifting his weight uncomfortably, "I need to feed the dogs."

"Feed the dogs!"

"Yeah… the… wolf-dogs. I take care of them and I always feed them at this time and…"

"Well, I guess the mutts will have to starve," the man growled, walking closer to Hal only to give him a firm shove backwards, "This isn't—"

A voice, female, clear, and with an unmistakably eastern European accent, suddenly interrupted from the hall, "What mutts will have to starve?"

Hal and the guard turned to look.

Merely seconds later, a blonde woman strode through the office doorway. Her paces were long, graceful… she held herself like royalty. She stopped in front of the guard, regarding him coldly, her arms folded against her chest. The entire room seemed to fill with her domineering presence.

"Oh, Sniper Wolf!" the guard said in surprise, nearly dropping his gun, "What are you doing here?"

She didn't bother to answer his question. Her eyes slowly trailed up and down his body, "What seems to be the problem here?"

The guard shifted his weight, suddenly looking far less threatening than he was merely minutes ago. He cleared his throat and motioned toward Hal, "The problem, Ma'am, is that this man thinks he can fool me into letting him sneak out."

"What? No! That's not it at all!" Hal shouted… maybe a bit too forcefully.

The guard ignored him, "He said he has to go feed the wolf-dogs."

"The wolf-dogs?" the woman asked. Her mouth quirked into a small smile as she turned to look Hal over, "Hm… is that really what you want to do, Doctor?"

"Yes…" Hal said quietly, his eyes dropping to scan the scuffed linoleum floor.

Sniper Wolf nodded, then turned back to the guard, "I see nothing wrong with it."

The guard looked absolutely gobsmacked, "But! Ma'am!"

"Come, I will escort you to them," she continued, addressing Hal and paying no attention at all to the other man.

The guard spluttered, "It's obviously a trick! It's not even a good one!"

"Even if it is," Sniper Wolf said evenly, her cold eyes flicking toward the guard's, "Do you honestly think this man, or any man, could successfully run from me? Don't worry, I'll have him back before too long."

The guard frowned, "Well I…"

"I'm glad we have come to an agreement. Come along, Doctor. The dogs are waiting."

Before Hal could quite figure out what was going on, Sniper Wolf was leading him out of the office and down the hall, her hand resting on the small of his back as though it was a completely natural thing to do.

"I… uh… thank you, Ma'am," Hal said quietly, his eyes continuing to trail on the tiles beneath them.

"Think nothing of it, Doctor," Sniper Wolf said easily.


End file.
